'Then Mike O'Dwyer sat up on his couch and looked round on us all quite calm, as if he had never been hanged.
'"And who is this woman at all?" said he, looking at me in such a way that I thought he was a bit mad after his adventure, poor chap.
'"Why, your wife," said she, patting him on the shoulder to give him courage. "Mrs. O'Dwyer and no one else."
'"Oh! the widow O'Dwyer," says he, giving me a wink. "And what is she hectoring me for? The widow O'Dwyer," says he again.
'With that she grew very mad with him, and I thought her tongue would never stop; but in every pause she made for breath he just said calmly, "The widow O'Dwyer, poor soul," till she grew frightened at last and spoke to him softly.
'"Mike," she said, "don't you know yourself? Mike O'Dwyer."
'"I'm not Mike O'Dwyer," says he. "Mike was hanged this morning; and I'm sorry for you, ma'm, you being a widow and your husband dying as he did," says he.
'"I'm your true wife," she sobbed, laying her hand on his.
